


Power

by seimaisin



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Episode Related, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-09-10
Updated: 2003-09-10
Packaged: 2017-10-17 00:42:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/171048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seimaisin/pseuds/seimaisin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Kegan knows there are many different types of power. Only a fool believes the most important one is the one they spend their days shoveling for. She is a practical soul.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Power

**Author's Note:**

> Set during the season 4 episode "Beneath the Surface."

Kegan knows there are many different types of power. Only a fool believes the most important one is the one they spend their days shoveling for. She is a practical soul.

When she first came to the power station – from the mines, she supposes, but her memories of that time are dim – she worked just like all the rest. Shovel the fuel, maintain the generators, eat a meal, and try to find a group of people to connect with. Everyone connects down there; little groups, ‘families’, drift together and hold on tight. A man mates with a woman, a few friends gather around them, they start sharing their rations and their beds. Kegan looks at these groups sometimes, envious, though she takes care not to let it show on her face. She has no one. She tried fitting in to a few groups, made uncomfortable overtures, only to be rebuffed. She is too strident; her tongue too sharp, her temper too quick. Some of the men thought she was okay enough for mating, that sweaty, pulsating melding of bodies, but none of them had any use for her once the morning whistle sounded. After a few tries, Kegan gave up on men. Her body doesn’t crave that sort of contact, anyway. Not often enough to matter.

Most of her fellow workers are useless, she thinks, outside of the manual labor. None of them see that there are ways of making yourself just a little bit better inside this place – which, she supposes, is better for her, anyway.

Brenna likes her, and that’s really all that matters, she tells herself. The foreman put Kegan in charge of meals – a heady task, indeed, because in this place, the person who provides sustenance is next to god. Kegan likes the responsibility. Maybe, just maybe, when Brenna leaves (but, where would a person go when they left here? What would be higher than being the foreman?), she might be able to earn her job. The dream of standing over all these squabbling little families makes Kegan very happy indeed.

New workers are brought up from the mines all the time. Kegan stopped scrambling to greet them a long time ago. Everyone else makes a great show of welcoming new family members, explaining the rules, clapping people on the back and pretending they’ve known each other for years. The yammering makes her head hurt. The new arrivals always come just after mealtime, when Kegan finally has time to sit down and eat, so she concentrates on her food and allows everyone else to file out of the common area before finally enjoying a moment of peace. This time is no different, except that it’s a smaller group than normal. Only four people – usually they bring at least ten at a time. One is a woman, and Kegan dislikes her on sight. Her eyes are intelligent, even in the semi-drugged stupor that mine workers arrive in. (Brenna told her once that the mines are so far down, so far away, that only the trained transport drivers can stand the journey without being sedated.) Kegan knows what she sees in this woman’s – Thera’s – eyes. She sees ambition, and that’s not a mirror she cares to look into. Thera seems to come already paired off, another mark against her; her mate, Jonah, has oddly dead eyes, and Kegan gets a strange sense that they’re not supposed to be that way. She senses something sleeping inside of him, something she’d rather not waken. Then, there is the large man, with skin the color of hers. He frightens her. He looks something like her, but he is not like her at all. She makes a mental note to stay as far away from him as possible.

There is one other, though, a man, left sitting on the floor next to the entrance. He rubs his eyes and blinks rapidly, his eyes adjusting to the light. Kegan wonders why everyone left him behind – but, yet, they have, all crowding around Thera and Jonah, or the big man, Tor. The lonely one stands up, steadying himself with a hand on the wall next to him. He groans. Kegan stands up and walks over to him reflexively. “Are you all right?” she asks. The words feel heavy on her tongue. It’s been a long time since she’s bothered.

“Head hurts,” he mutters. “And hungry.”

Kegan looks down at the uneaten bread in her hand, finally holding it out. “Here, have this. Let’s find you a bed. They won’t make you work until tomorrow’s shift, anyway.”

And, so, Kegan finds herself with a friend. Karlan takes the bed next to hers – left empty, after she threatened to relieve the next man who tried to grope her during the night of his manhood – and her world starts to change, in small ways. She doesn’t know why he likes her, or why she likes him, for that matter. He’s just … there, and not going away. That’s comforting. Especially since the power balance in the station is going haywire. Thera has Brenna’s ear. Thera is going to get Kegan’s job, that little blonde bitch. Kegan has been there longer, worked harder, and she deserves to be Brenna’s right hand woman. She tells all this to Karlan, even though she knows he’s not listening. He lives in his own world, she knows, one inside of his head. It doesn’t matter to her, though. It’s novel enough just to have someone pretending to listen. And, occasionally, Karlan will make a comment that proves he’s been listening after all. He cares. That’s something Kegan doesn’t quite understand.

Karlan’s presence does strange things to her. He makes her think about mating again. It’s an odd feeling, one she’d forgotten. She holds a vague memory, of someone before the mines, but the memory is more of a sense, a small shudder that plays down her spine when she tries to inspect her mind for more details. If she tries to locate any more than this, however, the moment slips away. She can’t remember who, or what, or when; she only knows that sleeping next to Karlan brings it back. She ponders this for several nights, listening to him breathe next to her while her body twists itself into knots. Finally, her nerve finds her again, and she crawls into bed with him. He starts, and looks at her strangely. When she covers his mouth with hers, he stiffens for a brief moment. But, as soon as her hands find his skin, he melts beneath her touch. His arms encircle her torso, and he brings her to rest beneath him. The familiar shudder runs through her body. A kiss, a tongue, a touch in an unexpectedly soft spot – connection. His breath is hot on her neck, and her hands are insistent against his skin. For a brief moment, they are one. They are quiet; only small grunts indicate their activity. These grunts are familiar in the nighttime darkness – no one questions them.

Later, after she’s crawled back to her own bed, Kegan lies awake, blinking into the darkness. In the next bed, Karlan murmurs in his sleep. She strains to make out the word, but all she hears is a “sh…” and a rumble low in his chest. She dismisses the sounds, and turns over. Maybe it’s her imagination, she thinks, but the orange glow of the reactor seems a bit softer that night. Maybe, she thinks, human contact makes you see things.

In the morning, her world is the same, except for a brief smile from Karlan as they head for their separate work areas. Later, she passes Jonah and Thera, and witnesses a smile pass between them. For a brief moment, she feels a kinship with the woman. It’s strange, Kegan thinks, how much power a simple expression can hold.

Then, the moment passes. Thera is yet the enemy. Kegan has power to seek in other places.


End file.
